Dear all and sundry,
Oof. Or ouf. The list
postings these days are dumped in a clump, making them hard to cope with. I’ll
just pick a few burrs out of my hair.
A few years ago
Auberon Waugh (RIP) selected Pale Fire as his novel of the century. No doubt he
had many reasons, but the one that struck me most was that he perceived it as a
gigantic and hilarious send-up of the literary scholarship
business.
Here’s one way of
looking at it. Kinbote is a frustrated poet trying to be a scholar. Shade is a
career academic, trying to be a poet. Poets are mad. Scholars are sane.
It’s exceedingly rare for the two to meet on the same ground. No great poets
have been scholars; no great scholars have been poets. Pale Fire, the poem, is
ingeniously versified prose. Pale Fire, the book, is inspired poetry in
scholarly footnote form.
Stan Kelly-Bootle’s
observation: “All is CONtext!” is stimulating. I’d been musing for a couple of days that
in my posting of 27/10 I’d written: “Yeats also has a poem on the scholar/artist
conflic” ---- after noticing that I’d dropped a t off the last word. What might
a scholar logically deduce from this harebreath slip, hardly Freudian but just
possibly Nabokovian. Was this an
instance of Yoko Ono’s entertaining shortening of “conceptual art” into
“con-art”, merged with “flic”, a
Parisian copper, or perhaps “flic[k]”, a series of static images designed to
produce the illusion of motion?
Brian Boyd’s reaction
has me baffled. “By your standards
Shakespeare's sonnets would not be poetry either, since some of those have very
much been worried into being (take sonnet
104, for instance). You might try
broadening your tastes.”
Whether sonnet 104 was
worried into existence or not, having now read it carefully, it strikes me
as poetry of a much higher order
than Pale Fire, the poem. I don’t find it all that easy to grasp what Frost was
getting at, but I suppose it must have something to do with the initial “wild”
creative impulse. I would suggest that this impulse is not the same for scholars
or academics as for poets. Poets have the advantage, since without them scholars
would have nothing to talk about. They also benefit from living outside the box,
whereas career-minded academics are obliged to publish or perish. VN strongly resembles Falstaff in that
respect: not only witty in himself, but the cause of wit in
others.
Besides which, I don’t
follow the logic whereby because some sonnets may have been produced solely by
perspiration, the others are also without inspiration. The strictness of the
sonnet form necessarily requires it to be carefully worked over. Are we not
talking in antitheses here? I hope
I’m understanding Brian’s last sentence in the spirit in which it was intended,
but as a European, though in a minority of one, I do find it rather Antipodean.
Being naturally humble, however, I’m always doing my best to broaden my
tastes.